The Collector
by Yanagi Uxinta
Summary: Blake has several bows. Ones for everyday, ones for special occasions. Some were frivolities. Some were gifts. There's only one she won't wear, especially when she's going to the dance.


Hey all!

I've joined the RWBY fandom this year, and this little drabble has been knocking around my head for a few days until I finally gave up and wrote it. Small as it is, I hope you enjoy and I love hearing from you all!

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She had a collection.

Yang had asked her about it, that first day when they were all unpacking. Blake had taken the roll of ribbons out of her small, second-hand suitcase and moved them to her drawer in the dresser. Blake had just shrugged and said she liked wearing them; while pointing out that her collection took up far less space than Weiss' shoe one. That had sufficiently deflected attention away from them, and they hadn't been interesting enough in the first place to inquire further about.

In truth, they meant a lot more to her than a means to cover her ears. Several of those ribbons were the only things she'd taken with her when she left the White Fang, along with Gambol Shroud. Some were years old, the colours faded and ends frayed.

Some had been gifts.

The other three had already gone down to the dance, all of them hoping that Blake would turn up as she'd promised. She was going to – she knew Sun would be waiting, probably complaining about the tie she'd talked him into and that Weiss would have banned him from the party if he arrived without.

Her ears were uncovered and she had her roll of ribbons out, unravelled across her bed. The purple one lay in her hands, the plum colour a perfect match for the dress she'd rushed out to buy that afternoon when she realised she didn't have anything suitable for a party. It was soft velvet, too fine and pretty to wear everyday – especially in a White Fang encampment.

 _'Here. If you insist on wearing them, you should have a nice one.'_

She'd loved it; had worn it for the rest of the day with a small, delighted smile whenever she had seen him, and refused to use it on missions in case it was damaged. She had saved it for special occasions after that; victories where they'd pulled off a job flawlessly and no one was hurt.

She'd had fewer and fewer reasons to wear it as time passed. It would have been so easy to leave behind that day they attacked the train – just leave it folded neatly on his pillow, a more tangible goodbye than a soft voice all but lost among the roar of the train and the wind.

She couldn't leave it. So she'd wrapped it up with the others, folded as flat as they would go and tucked into her pocket. She'd hung onto it for over a year now – never worn it, but on hard nights when she just couldn't sleep she would quietly slip it out of the drawer and take it back to bed with her. She'd run it through her fingers and stare out at the night sky that was so familiar from their months of camping in the forest until sleep finally came.

It was comfort. It was home. It was the safety he brought, the surety in those startling blue eyes that seemed at odds with the hard lines of his face. It was him, before he started wearing that mask all the time rather than just on a job. It was her, before she'd started wearing a bow wherever she went rather than just in public.

It was fear. It was pain. It was being unable to see his eyes and realising that, this time, he wasn't going to give her an excuse for the pain he'd inflicted on the humans who got in their way. It was her own silence, her cowardice for standing by and not trying to talk him down when maybe – _maybe_ – she would have been the one he'd listen to.

It wasn't warm smiles and cheeky humour. It wasn't casual ease and familiarity, without pushing her too far. It wasn't bright hair and dark eyes and bags of confidence he could actually justify having. It wasn't a second chance.

Blake set the purple bow aside and reached for another one. It didn't match as well, but the iridescent blue satin was nice enough for a party and wasn't a heavy reminder of everything she was trying to leave behind. It was an indulgent present to herself, soon after forming Team RWBY. It was freedom and a lack of guilt.

She went to the party and danced with her friends and the boy who had tolerated a tie for her, and didn't think about the velvet plum ribbon all night.


End file.
